All language subtitles for Brockmire - 3x03 - The Yips [720p-AMZN-WEBRip-x264-GalaxyTV]

"Baseball's a tough racket.

"A few bad weeks and it's back

"to the coal mines for you, pal.

The pressure never lets up."
Duke Yipkowski.

Boy, he was a kind man.

His nickname was, uh,
the Princely Pollock.

When Ty Cobb went up in the stands

and tried to stomp
a handicapped guy to death,

Yip was the only one who did
anything about it.

He went right up there and said,

"Hey, knock it off."

Connie Mack said it best.

"Yip was a damn fine second baseman

until the day he wasn't."

"The first one,
I gripped the ball funny

"and it carried on me.

"The second one, I was trying to beat

"a fast runner and overthrew.

"" On the third, I took
my time and really aimed it.

And that's when I forgot how
to throw altogether."

The remarkable thing
was that he could make

all the other throws:

home, second, third.

But not the simplest one. To first.

"-" When the ball's hit to me,
the whole crowd takes a breath

saving up their air to laugh."

After committing 22 errors
in ten games,

the Senators released him.

Two years later, Yip's dead.

Some say having the game

taken from him drove him insane.

I would argue it was the syphilis.

And he was not the only player
from the Deadball Era

to die of a sexually
transmitted disease.

Hugh "The Human Pooper Scooper"
Hooper was deeply committed

to the scat lifestyle.

He used to like to pay
prostitutes to squat

- over a glass coffee table...
- You know what, Jim?

I actually think we're good.

I have a little more.

Why can't Gabby just give the count?

'Cause the play-by-play man
tells the story of the game.

And the heartbeat of the game
is the count.

How many balls, how many strikes.

Every pitch changes the at-bat.

Every at-bat changes the inning.

Every inning changes the game.

Whether the story I'm telling
is triumph or tragedy

can come down to whether
the count is 1 and O

or 1 and O.

You just said "one and O" twice.

But, hey, you came
to a meeting this morning.

And that's a good sign.

So just give yourself a little time.

No.

I don't have time, Shirley.

The yips are like a missing child.

The first 48 hours are everything.

You don't solve it by then,
you might as well start

checking dumpsters in ever
expanding concentric circles

for what's left of my career.

Damn it, I thought getting
sober was supposed

to solve my problems,
not invent new ones.

Sobriety just reveals the
problems you've been avoiding

- with drugs and alcohol.
- Seriously?

- Mm-hmm.
- 'Cause I got, like, 40 years

of problems stacked up here.

I can barely get through five seasons

- of "Friday Night Lights."
- Oh, you should.

It's really good.

Yeah, well, after I watch
"Breaking Bad."

You haven't seen "Breaking Bad"?

Oh, don't binge shame me, Shirley.

I'm barely hanging on here.

Now, Simmons struggled last year,

but he spent the off season
working with a batting coach

- on his swing plane.
- Did he?

Oh, good thing, too,
because that swing was harder

to watch than a high school
production of "Equus."

Fastball misses outside,
one ball to none.

Not none... no... no tracks. Strike.

Sorry, folks. Counts one and...

one... one... one thing about baseball,

it's a sport that we're all
watching right now together.

Just missed a pitch as I said that.

It was inside, so we add that
to the previous ball

and we get a count of... I wanna say...

"Mork & Mindy."

"Mork & Mindy"?

Well, I think that went pretty
well after I stopped trying

to give the count.

Kind of a fun change of pace
for the audience,

not to know what the balls
and strikes were.

Add a little, uh, sense
of mystery to the proceedings.

Yeah, like, "What is happening?"

And, "Did that man just say
the numbers tor and nevin?"

That was a great deal more blunt

than it needed to be, wasn't it?

How about you, Gus? Any notes?

I got one or twore.

I'm just kidding.

We're getting fired.

Jim, you know,
I've seen this happen before.

The catcher on my college team
got the yips.

She suddenly just couldn't
throw back to the pitcher.

Just the simplest soft toss
became impossible for her.

Yeah, we were all scared
it was gonna last forever.

- But it didn't.
- So, what'd the coach do?

Did he move her to first base?

DH? What?

No, she k... she killed herself.

Yeah, the floor was just
littered with pills.

The cops theorized
she was trying to, like,

throw them in her
mouth and she just kept

missing over and over.

So she eventually shot herself.

On the fifth try.

Why would you tell me that?

To let you know this is serious.

Yeah, I know.
That's why I'm trying to...

Okay, you know what the good news is?

Spring training game on the radio.

I doubt very highly that
anybody was listening to it.

Right?

I heard that entire game. Wow.

It was just an endless parade
of suffering

with no one offering any help.

It was like the Flint,
Michigan, of broadcasts.

How about laying off of me, huh?

I thought being sick
was supposed to give

- a person perspective.
- Oh, it does.

I had a bird's eye view
to you eating shit down there.

Gabby, on the other hand,
did a fine job.

I'm gonna have her do color
on tomorrow's TV broadcast.

- Uh-huh.
- Because I'm gonna take

her spot in your booth

so I can have a ringside seat
to your self-immolation.

You know, this eighth grade
bully bluster of yours

might play with the little
piss-ants who flit around you.

Don't hold much truck with me,
Sonny Jim.

See, I remember when you were
just a utility player

whose main utility was

grounding out to the shortstop.

Didn't impress me then.

You don't impress me now,
you jumped up,

- dim-witted shit heel.
- Okay, who the hell

do you think you are,
talking to me like that

- in my ball park?
- Oh, unbunch your panties.

That was me holding back. Keep it up.

Happy to give it to you both barrels.

I'll tell you what, Brockmire.

Your ass better be ready for tomorrow.

I will put you on the spot until

anybody with a radio and ears,

knows you can't do the count.

Get ready for your next
public humiliation.

Hey, I was born ready for humiliation.

My mother gave birth
to me at a Dress Barn.

Outlet store. On her break.

And after,
they had her mop up our mess.

So suck my balls!

I don't understand,
I'm doing everything

I'm supposed to do, to better myself.

I've been... I've been collecting
these chips for a year now.

When do I get to cash them
in for a better life?

AA is not Chuck E. Cheese.

Yeah, I know. It's worse.

And Chuck E. Cheese is a parody
of a nightmare.

Look, my career's gonna be
over in 24 hours, okay?

For real, I need you to just sponsor

the shit out of me right now, Shirley.

So, uh, help me understand
what happens with these yips.

It's like all of a sudden
there's a stadium filled

with people inside my head,

and they're all telling me what to do,

but they're all saying
different things.

And they're screaming all of
this at the top of their lungs.

Also, they all happen to be me,
so they're doing it

in a... in a really compelling way.

Yeah, as always,
your narcissism astounds.

Oh, thank you.

But these anxieties you're describing,

they're very normal
for this stage of sobriety.

The fog has lifted
from your brain and now,

all these competing thoughts

are trying to assert themselves

over your mind and your life.

You need to rework step three.

Admit you're powerless

and that there's
a higher power in control.

I know. Well, I didn't do that step.

I don't understand.

Well, I'm an atheist, Shirley.

You know, I reject the story
of some sky daddy

whose approval I'm supposed to beg for.

I skipped all the steps
that had God in 'em.

- Well, but that's most of the steps.
- I know.

That's why I was able to blow
through the program

in record time.

Because you didn't actually
work the program.

See, AA only works if you work it.

Jim, your yips are directly
related to this issue.

You're white-knuckling it and

you're trying to control your life,

and your sobriety.

And you can't.

So you need to find a higher
power that works for you

or you're not gonna be able to fix it.

Okay, so all I have to do is
find God in the next 24 hours.

Is that what you're telling me?

Oh, well, that should be a
snap, thank you.

I mean, I don't even know
where to start.

You could start here.

At a Catholic church?

Real life Slytherin? No.

No, thank you.

At least with Mormons
you get magic underwear

and your own planet.

- Hi.
- Oh, um,

so, you don't... you don't call ahead?

Oh, never. No.

Can't send me to voicemail if
I'm standing on your doorstep.

No, um, I was wondering,
are you headed to church

this morning by any chance?

I am.

I wonder if I might come with you?

Okay, let's do this.

Uh, so this is Jim Brockmire.

Oh, hi. What a pleasure.
Did she tell you?

I'm one of those straight men,

who prefers the company of lesbians.

- No what?
- No.

- You know, like a... like a...
- No, no, no.

Remember, I told you,
that's not a thing.

Well, we're making it a thing.

This is how things
become things, Gabby.

Uh, he wants to come to church with us.

I think I'll catch a later service.

Okay, well, just out of curiosity,

is it because of your
preconceived notions about me

or the fact that I referenced
your sexuality

- on our first interaction?
- Both.

- That's fair enough.
- Yeah.

Solid.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

- What's wrong?
- Aren't we at least

going to a black church?

I mean, I knew today was gonna
be a total write-off,

but I was at least looking
forward to some great music

and some pretty impressive hats.

I mean, that's nothing but a
bunch of lame-ass white people.

You're lame-ass white people.

I know, and I think it's pretty obvious

that I hate myself.

This isn't my regular church,
all right?

I don't live here, either, remember?

But it's Episcopalian,

it's, like, ten minutes from my house,

and I think I saw
a pride flag inside once.

Or maybe it was just a rainbow.
I don't know.

I'm doing what I can. It's Florida.

All right, let's just...
let's just do this thing.

All right, but before we go in,

you have to promise me...

promise me that you're
not gonna embarrass me.

Of course I promise you.

Look, I appreciate you bringing me.

I know how important it is

to you, I don't take it lightly.

Last thing in the world
I wanna do is embarrass you.

Would you mind closing the door?

Of course, Pastor.

Why did you bring up the holocaust?

Well, the priest is the one

who brought up a benevolent God.

I thought that called
for a rebuttal witness.

No, you called Jesus
the Mayor of Auschwitz.

Well, I don't wanna work
with some thin-skinned God

who can't handle a little criticism.

Now, if He's all-powerful,

why doesn't he grow
Himself a pair of balls?

Boy, I apologize again
for my behavior back there.

Right now trying to control my emotions

is a little bit like trying
to leash train a feral dog

who has a taste for blood and trash.

People are gonna get bit and
tampons are gonna get eaten.

It's a... it's a process.

Jim, feral dogs get put down.

You know, maybe you
should stop apologizing

for doing shitty things and
just stop doing shitty things.

Well, maybe I should.

Thank you for being such
a straight shooter, there.

And thank you for bringing me here.

This is... uh, boy, this is lovely.

Yeah, I forgot how nice it is.

Maybe Gayle and I will bring
our kid here one day.

Oh, yeah, is that, uh,

a thing that'll be happening soon?

Yeah, I think, um... I hope very soon.

Well, I think you're going
to be an amazing mother.

- Ah.
- No, you're one of the finest people

it's ever been my pleasure to know.

I mean that.

That's why I'm a little bit
surprised that you believe

in an all-powerful God
who still had to supplement

His income as a carpenter.

Doesn't make sense.

You know, there was
this moment right before

my first College World Series game.

I was stressed, nervous.

So I got down, just said a quick

prayer for strength,

and when I stepped out onto the field,

immediately this calm came over me.

I felt connected to everything,
to the crowd,

my teammates, to the bat in my hand.

When that first pitch came,

I knew it was going over the fence.

Knew it as it left the pitcher's hand.

In that moment,
I was sure I was exactly

where I was supposed to be

doing exactly what I
was supposed to be doing.

I don't know.
If that's not a higher power,

I don't know what is.

Hmm.

You know, that's the first time
that anyone has ever explained

God to me in a way that
actually made sense.

So, thank you.

Now do the holocaust.

- No.
- Do it.

- No.
- Please?

Oh, Jim, I heard that Matt The Bat's

coming in to end your career today.

- Where'd you hear that?
- He's telling everybody.

I heard it from the bat boy.

- Little Joaquin?
- Yeah.

With the dimples and the bowl haircut?

- He's so sweet.
- I know.

Joaquin said that Matt's gonna, uh...

to ear hole you with his monster cock.

His English has gotten really good.

Yeah, we're getting fired.

So I'm going to the hotel.

I'm gonna finish packing.

Boy, you really know how
to harsh a guy's

post-picnic high, you know that?

All right, Sky Daddy,
let's do this thing.

Oh, boy.

God, I haven't been in this
position since I was looking

for Sandy Duncan's glass eye
on a bathroom floor.

She wouldn't have sex with me
unless we found it.

Which we never did.

Had to settle for a bunch
of mouth stuff.

But this is probably
not a great prayer.

Okay, I don't see any way out
of this stupid thing,

and I was hoping
that you could show me.

Please.

I'll wait.

Still waiting.

Oh, my God. I feel something.

Oh, it's like a pressure
deep down inside of me.

Oh, shit. I just have to pee.

Jim Brockmire just dominating
this urinal ice.

So the rumors are true.
You really do talk to yourself.

Yeah, but I don't talk
to strange men on the toilet.

You're born alone. You die alone.

You should shit alone.

I was just taking a piss.

I always use the stall
when I'm in public,

otherwise everybody tries

to get a peek at the big show.

Which I guess makes me a bigger
attraction than you

in the booth and in the John.

Man, what is your problem?

You know what? Never mind.

- Not worth it.
- No, no, no. Don't hold back.

Lay into me with both barrels.

All right, fine.

I'm gonna carve through you
like ice at a urinal.

So open wide, motherfuck.

'Cause here comes my mind piss.

You are...

Uh, all right. Well, we...

We can do this later.

Or maybe not at all.

I'll... I'll see you in the booth.

No, no.

- Say what you were gonna say.
- No.

Anybody vomiting from chemo
gets a pass from me.

Oh, well, I stopped
chemo two weeks ago.

Well, what does that mean?

No, don't pretend to care.

Don't treat me differently
because I'm sick.

That... that's more insulting
than anything

you could possibly say to me.

What... now, you don't know
what I was gonna say.

I need you to be honest with me.

My friends and fans, doctors, my wife,

none of them are honest.

Nobody kicks cancer's ass.

Cancer either almost kills you
or it kills you.

And it's killing me,
and none of them will admit it.

So, please, do me the goddamn
courtesy of some honesty.

Okeydokey.

Do it!

- Now!
- Okay.

You're a black-hearted piece of shit

who's done more coke than Stevie Nicks

and David Crosby combined.

All true.

Continue.

Oh, boy. The four luckiest...

The four luckiest women
in the world are the ones

who managed to heave your
aggressively sinewy body

off of them long enough to divorce you,

taking with them the only part

of you they ever actually loved,

which was your money. All right?

But that... you know what?
That's blood.

So, you know what? We're gonna get you

to the hospital.

Don't worry. Once you feel better,

I'll tell you all about the time

- I fucked your sister.
- Which one?

I gotta give you some reason
to get better, now don't I?

Now... now, come on.

Gus, I need you to call an ambulance.

Yeah, okay.

Now, please, Assy Joe.

- Wow.
- What?

- That was intense.
- Oh, yeah, man.

You mean, like,
to witness the frailties

of the human body like that?

To see the mortal coil
laid bare before us.

It was devastating.

I mean, thank God the man
is okay or, uh,

I do not think that I could continue.

Jim, I don't think I've ever
seen you happier.

Now, come on, Gu... I just...

I'm excited to have my solo booth back.

That's all.

I don't know what
you're so excited about.

You still got the yips.

Plus you're solo at the mics,

and now you got nobody to
help you with the count.

That's great producing, Gus.
Really, thanks a lot.

Great. Great pep talk.

Come on. You can do it, you can do it.

Hello, baseball fans.

Jim Brockmire with you today
flying solo

through the friendly Florida skies,

so put your tray tables up
and fasten your seatbelts

because you are in the center seat.

I am in both the aisle and the window,

and I am feeling chatty.

Just about ready

for the first pitch
here this afternoon.

Sitko making his spring debut
on the mound,

looking to bounce back from,
well, a pretty disastrous

season last year where he had
about as much control

as an Amish kid during
the Rumspringa at Burning Man.

And déjà vu all over again.

He begins this year much like
he ended the last,

with a fast ball way outside
for a ball one and O.

One ball and O strikes,
which is the count

as it currently exists.

Sitko misses outside again.

Time, two and O.
Two balls and no strikes.

Folks, we got ourselves a ball
game here this afternoon.

Munich red hot thus far this spring.

Eight for 13.

No walks, no strike outs.

Definitely looking to make contact.

That broadcast was fantastic.

I just got off the phone
with the owners.

They loved that two-inning riff
on Bob Fosse's "Cabaret"

and the way that you seamlessly

dovetailed it right back into the game.

Well, the parallels between Andujar

and Sally Bowles,
that's just low-hanging fruit.

I mean, I can't be the first
person who ever noticed that.

Well, they said that this was
the quintessential Brockmire

they wanted when they hired you.

They're giving you a solo booth.

- Get out of here.
- Yep.

- That's incredible.
- I know.

And they're excited
because now they get to save

a ton of money when they fire Gabby.

- They're gonna fire Gabby?
- Yeah.

And could you do that for me?

Because I'm not good at confrontation.

What are you good at, Gus?

Four way stops.

I'm good at four way stops.

I always know who to yield to.

That's the... that's
the saddest brag ever.

That's the first time
you haven't done a share.

- What's going on?
- Nothing.

I'm not hiding anything
from you, Shirley.

Took your note about the whole
higher power thing,

and I reached out to God,
and He got right back to me.

Turns out he's the Old Testament God.

He smote my enemy
and he punished the innocent.

Wh... what do you think
God did, exactly?

He made Mat "The Bat" sick,

so he couldn't call the ball game,

and He gave me my solo booth back.

Hmm. What about you partner?

I have to fire her tomorrow.

Remind me what happened
to your last partner.

I fired him so I could get
a solo booth.

Why?
You think these things are related?

- Very much so.
- Huh.

Anywhoodles, turns out I understand God

a lot better than I thought I did.

He runs a protection racket.

You need something and you
can't turn to anybody

in the mortal realm, you call on God,

you ask Him for a favor.

Someday... and that day
may never come...

He asks you for a favor in return.

- God is not the Godfather.
- I know.

Don Corleone just had
politicians in his pocket

like so many nickels and dimes.

God's got all of existence
on His payroll.

Well, you have not found God.

And you have not found
your higher power.

And please, for Christ's sake,
watch another movie.

But my yips went away
when I was by myself talking.

Talking over the voices
is not gonna get rid of them.

It's just gonna make them
scream louder to be heard.

You need to work the steps.

You know, this is starting
to feel a lot

like brainwashing to me.

I there's a brain in this
world that needs a wash,

it's yours.

'Cause you're gonna relapse.

And you know that.

Nothing's ever good enough for you,
Shirley. I mean, what do I have to do?

I got my old girlfriend's
new boyfriend a job,

I went to a white person church,

I apologized to a freaking
French Canadian.

I mean, when do I get to stop
worrying about everybody else

and focus on myself again? Huh?

When's it gonna be Jim's turn?

When doing good things
stops feeling like a chore,

then it can be Jim's turn again.

Then I'll just be addicted
to helping people.

And, no, that seems like
a lateral move to me.

At best.

Two outs tying run at the plate.

Williams sets and delivers,
and misses inside

with a slider low, two and...

- Two and...
- Two and one.

What she said.

Clock skies one out to left
for the final out,

and we head to the bottom
of the fifth, folks.

Hey, good job, buddy.

I'm glad we figured out a solution.

Oh, me too.

You know, it turns out all
we had to do is take that

feral dog and chop his balls off.

It's... it's a process.